


In the Yarrow

by eeveepkmnfan



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: A Softer take on swapfell, Alternate Universe - Swapfell (Undertale), But we might just end up with a queerplatonic skeleton harem??, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Tea, eventually there will be more skeletons, nonbinary reader, probably not going to be romantic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-10
Updated: 2020-03-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:40:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 19,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22654864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eeveepkmnfan/pseuds/eeveepkmnfan
Summary: You're just another someone working a seven hour job five days a week. You're used to being alone, and usually you're fine with it - but by chance, you get a new next door neighbor in your apartment complex.His name is Sans, and you think that for once, you wouldn't mind having a friend if it's him.
Relationships: Papyrus & Reader, Sans & Reader
Comments: 40
Kudos: 226





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Dirty Laundry](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18528973) by [popatochisp](https://archiveofourown.org/users/popatochisp/pseuds/popatochisp). 



> This self indulgent mess is very much inspired by all the super cool skeleton harem fics floating around, but special mention goes to popatochisp's Dirty Laundry, which is wonderful and inspiring.

You still couldn't believe it - even two years after an entirely new civilization emerged on the back of (what else but) humanity's failures. It made you feel so horrible to think of them trapped down there for years and years, entire lifetimes going by - and so you tried to comfort yourself by reminding yourself that they were finally free. 

Even if the government was still very twitchy about it all (good old America, right?), they still couldn't do much when most of the world was on the monster's side. Well, they can try (and you have no doubt they still do) but it never really worked. 

If only the government was as spectacular a failure whenever its people made up their minds to steal from whoever wasn’t them.

But for all the horribleness of the government and the people who occupied it, at least you could count on most everyday people to pick up their slack when it came to welcoming all the new citizens! It had been truly wild that very first day: thousands of tweets in English that first hour (lots of Area 51 memes too, if you can believe it) then it started spreading and spreading and it wasn't long before news stations all over the world were verifying the news long before any speeches had time to be made. 

It didn't really take as long as you thought it would, monsters gaining full rights - but maybe part of it had to do with the fact that… most humans loved monsters? Or, well, maybe not loved. Maybe more, were fascinated by? Curious? But not in a creepy way! Any time you took a walk down a street it wasn't unusual to see a human passing a monster with a smile, or monster and human parents sitting and watching their kids together at the park. For as worried as you'd been (as you think everybody had been), you're really, really glad things turned out this way.

It still kind of blew you away whenever you briefly encountered a shopkeeper who had fur or a dogwalker who was a dog: monsters are amazing.

Even if they hadn't introduced a plethora of safe foods, basically created a new financial system, or even solved the environmental crises taking place all over the world (trees never even got the chance to burn) - without all of that, you would still admire them.

It's not your fault, but it is the fault of the human mages that came before you. And if it’s anything that can make you truly angry, it is injustice like what the monsters lived through. You don't really know what you can do, but. 

You want to give back to the monsters some of what they never had a chance to have. And it doesn't really make sense, but you're fired up about it anyway. 

When you get home from work today, you resolve to start looking into ways to help.

* * *

Your feet ache but you're in a good mood when you reach your apartment complex. That's your usual status these days, and you fall into it like you fell into an easy routine at work. All of your muscle pain goes away for a few moments as you reach your door only to find a skeleton monster wearing what looks to be thigh high boots and (armor?? of all things?). Their back is towards you but before you can contemplate the boxes on the floor before them, they turn around quick as anything to face you, white eyelights tracking your every move.

You almost squeak, but you're much too quiet a person for that, so instead you just stand there for a few awkward seconds before looking them straight in the eye (sockets?) and saying, "Hi. Are you my new neighbor?" 

They look you up and down… slowly, and then they just. Sort of frown and respond to your question with a simple, "YES." For some reason, even if their voice isn't particularly loud, you have the feeling they talk in all caps anway. (Their voice is smooth with a bit of a rasp, and it's. It's kind of relaxing to hear.) 

Another few moments pass by, and they're still watching you very, very intently. But it's not… unnerving? 

Maybe it's supposed to be, but you're really not feeling it. So you ask them if they'd like some help moving those boxes, and your new skeleton neighbor nods silently and goes inside without waiting for you. Internally shrugging, you stack two medium heavy boxes and enter an identical living space to yours, except this one has two extra bedrooms. You wonder if they're planning on renting.

High Heels soon returns to direct you where they want all their stuff, and it only takes ten minutes to get everything inside. You think of offering to help them unpack, wonder if that's too weird, but they hand you a cup of tea and before you know it, you're sitting across your new neighbor in a very bare and very clean kitchen. 

They'd silently put down a plate of little Cinnabunnies, and you take one while saying thank you, and then after eating (a very delicious pastry) you take a sip of what seems to be entirely sugarless tea that has the very faint flavour of lavender. You almost smile.

High Heels looks away when you look up, but you catch a very faint ease on their face. Had they been worried you wouldn't like the tea? 

The two of you drink in silence, but you decide to break it after a while. You have a single, burning question that won't leave you alone. You put a hand on the table and they tilt their skull, eyes sharp.

"What's your name?" 

They seem to almost puff up, and they look at you with a quiet pride and a certain mischievous smirk as they say, "SANS, OF COURSE. AND YOU, HUMAN?" 

You tell them, and the both of you take a sip of tea. You look down into an empty cup and Sans tilts their skull in a silent question that turns into what looks like thrilled vindication as soon as you nod, your please more of a whisper. You’ve always not been able to help being so soft spoken. 

They bring back more tea for the both of you, and after you take another drink, Sans the skeleton asks you a question: would you like to come over again tomorrow?

You suppose that's a no on unpacking (kind of a relief), and as you look at your new neighbor, all sharp edges and dangerous eyes, you're struck by the thought that they look lonely; sitting there at a too clean table in a too clean kitchen, with the evening sun from the windows catching on them just like that.

There is a melancholy here. But there is someone who looks at you and doesn't mind your company, someone who asks you for more.

Sans looks at you like they're expecting the worst and hoping for absolutely nothing, and that more than anything makes your next words come out fierce. "I would love to," you say to them, and you mean it. 

They blink at you, and then give you a smile in return for your words. It feels a little like 'thank you', and it feels wonderful.

Before you leave, Sans gives you their number, and you're glad, because you know you never would have asked for it, or at least not so soon. As soon as you flop down on your bed, you change their name from simply 'SANS' to something a little more appropriate.

'Tea Friend' sounds nice and comforting, and so you laugh a little to yourself at how bad you are at naming things and decide to keep it. You also add a little black heart at the end, because you’re never getting over those thigh highs. (They're too cool.)

After spending a few hours relaxing reading but before you head to bed, you shoot your new friend a text. 

'Good night! See you tomorrow! :D'

Their reply comes barely a minute after yours. 

'VERY WELL. >:)' 

You have to smile at their reply, because… what? Who replies like that to a good night?? It's endearing, and Sans's texting style fits them to a tee. 

You forget to look up local food donations for monsters in need. But you end up dreaming about being chased down a never ending hallway - a dream that's familiar to you. 

You wake up wanting to smile.

* * *

The next afternoon, after work and after changing into more comfortable clothes, you knock on Sans's door and wait. You'd already texted them the time you got off today, and so hopefully they've had enough time to prepare for… whatever this social interaction ends up being. A normal hang out?? It’s too bad you don’t really have any experience with those, you think to yourself, internally laughing.

Sans opens the door exactly one minute after you knock (you are a habitual time checker), and they look excited. They've exchanged their spiky armor and thigh highs (nooooo!!) for something a little softer: a loose black turtleneck that looks to be two sizes too big (ah. A monster of culture) and pressed grey jeans, along with these beautiful and delicate gloves lined with lace, different from yesterday's. They look good!

They look away from you for a moment before turning back, blushing… a slight mauve?? It’s so pretty that you don’t even realize you complimented them out loud before they invite you in, a slight assertiveness to their person that wasn’t there yesterday. You feel your cheeks heat up a bit because you are naturally very warm blooded (that is all this is) and a bastion of absolutely no emotion. You follow them into their home, and have to stare in wonder.

What had been bare before is now full of miscellaneous furniture, decorations, and knick knacks. A very nice leather couch sits before a plush and colorful rug with little bones on it (too cute!!). A respectable flat screen TV on the other side, and a few dark cherry wooden end tables are here and there for flavour. Then you see the framed pictures on the wall (one is just a bone, but the other is a pretty landscape!) and you turn sparkling eyes over to Sans, who’s been watching you this whole time and wow, how embarrassing. You didn’t mean to gawk. But they look happy, even happier when you bashfully say that their home is beautiful. 

“Ah!” You exclaim softly, sending an apologetic look towards your neighbor. “I’m so sorry for not asking yesterday, but what are your preferred pronouns?” 

Sans straightens up and sends you an unreadable look before smirking. “HMM, I FORGOT HUMANS DIDN’T… NO MATTER! YOU MAY REFER TO ME AS HE, HUMAN.” He extends a gloved hand to gesture at you, almost like he was asking for a dance. “AND YOU?” Oddly enough, there is a knowing look in his eyes, as if it’s an unnecessary question. Certainly he hasn’t used gendered language for you yet, but it could be that monsters just have a way of telling. They can see souls, after all.

You smile at him. “Oh, thank you for asking! I’m… good with they, he, and it. Feel free to use any of those.” He simply nods, elegant as he insists you sit down while he fetches the both of you ‘A NEW BLEND I’VE BEEN WANTING TO USE FOR QUITE SOME TIME!’. 

It’s a weight off your shoulders, the way he just accepted it. You’re not exactly surprised, seeing as how monsters are so much more tolerant and compassionate compared to humans, but there’s always that little piece of you that’s waiting to be disappointed. It’s not even as if you’ve ever experienced anything like that - you have a wonderful, accepting family, even if you’ve never been out among co-workers - anywhere you’ve worked. But it’s easy to be anxious, with all the accounts you hear from people on the internet. Usually, it’s just easier for you to hide it. But… you’ve been trying to be braver, lately.

Sans’s easy answer and question just serve to make you that much more comfortable with him. You relax into the firm couch and listen to the faint humming coming from the kitchen. 

When Sans comes back out with a tray holding both a tea set and various pastries, you make to get up to help, but he merely has to cock his skull at you twice (much to his exasperation) before you’re watching him set everything up quickly and efficiently. 

“IT IS MY DUTY AS YOUR HOST TO SERVE YOU ALL OF THE EXCELLENCE THAT IS IN HOSPITALITY!!” It takes you a moment, but then you wonder: was that a pun?? 

You try your best to stifle your snort, but his head still snaps back towards you in question. “Sorry! I just feel bad doing nothing to help, you know?” 

He hands you a steaming cup of tea and raises a brow (bone?) at you. “IT IS YOUR DUTY AS MY GUEST TO PARTAKE IN THE VARIOUS FESTIVITIES GENEROUSLY PROVIDED.” 

You gigglesnort, and although he looks at you like he’s on to you, he continues. “BEHOLD!” And he actually waits for your eyes to settle on your tea cup and then back onto him before he keeps talking. Wow. “TODAY I HAVE BREWED FOR YOU THE ULTIMATE IN NEW ACQUAINTANCESHIP TEAS! WATER SET TO A LOW BOIL… AROMATIC LEAVES PROCURED FROM A DUBIOUS SOURCE! AND!! THE SPICES! TASTE THE SPICES, HUMAN. IF YOU DARE!” And he straight up just cackles at you, amusement in his eye sockets as you nearly choke to death on nothing. Wow. This guy… he’s really freaking cool. Like, here you are trying to play in the Friendship Little League, while this guy here, he’s just… off in the middle of the ocean snorkeling. The sheer Vibes coming off this guy are almost too much for you to handle, if you’re being honest. But you persevere.

He watches you with a smirk on his face but a drop of sweat drops down his neck as he watches you lift the cup to your lips. Slowly, ever so slowly, you drink. You look to him and he seems braced for whatever it is that’s going to come next.

“I’ve never had tea this spicy before, but it’s really good. It reminds me a little of honey ginger tea, but this one is really refreshing… I think it’s a new favorite of mine.” You smile. “It’s _tea_ licious!” 

Sans, smirk on his face, absolutely freezes, face now blank. Then, the next second he’d looking so _pissed_ but he’s laughing loudly, gloved fist over his eyes like he’s trying to erase the memory of you from his mind. It just makes you laugh too. 

“CURSES! I DESPISE PUNS, HUMAN. DESPISE THEM!” He can barely get his words out, and his raspy voice almost squeaks at the end. 

“You’re laughing,” you tease, as if you’re any better.

Sans throws his hands up in the air and looks Done with you, glaring while his scowl wobbles dangerously. “I AM AND I HATE IT!” 

Then the both of you just start laughing all over again, and it’s a few minutes after that before everything’s finally calmed down. Your heart feels light, and you like being here with Sans, drinking tea. It’s so relaxing - there’s no one to impress here, and you can just be yourself. In a weird way, even though he’s so put together and almost.. refined? Even though this is only the second time you’ve been over at his house, it all feels so easy.

You’ve heard of friends who just seem to click - you hope that’s what you and Sans can have.

The two of you make the Dreaded small talk that is so abundant out in the wild - Sans has a brother while you have a sister (“HE’S SUCH A LAZYBONES! HIS SOCKS ARE… A TRIAL!”), apparently he has a big family (“PAPYRUS IS CURRENTLY LIVING WITH SOME OF OUR COUSINS, HELPING WITH HOUSE REPAIRS…”) whereas it’s just you, your sister and your mother, really, you tell him. His favorite color is royal blue, which explains the rug, and you tell him yours is purple, which makes him smug for some reason. When it comes to jobs, you say you work at a small restaurant just a few miles down the road, and it’s at that point that Sans clenches his fists, looking ready for a fight. Um??

He inhales deeply before letting his words out in a single breath: “I’M GOING TO OWN A FLOWER SHOP!!!” His eye sockets are glowing faintly, an almost purple shadow behind them, and he looks simultaneously terribly proud and angry.

You want to reassure him, so you tell him, sincere, “I love flowers. You’ll have to give me the address once everything is all set up - I’ll be your first customer.”

His face crumbles and for just one moment, he looks terribly _sad_ , like he can’t afford to believe you. Your heart aches, but before you can gather the nerve to say anything more, he visibly gathers himself and reaches for the tea, hands steady.

He drinks his tea in one single shot, like it’s alcohol, but you savor yours. It’s such good tea…

When he walks you to the door that day, he is as silent as yesterday and nods you goodbye silently - his eyes are distant, somewhere far away from you already. 

He doesn’t ask you to come over tomorrow, or the next day, or the next day, or answer your good morning texts, but on Saturday, you send him a picture of a poppy, hoping you’re not overstepping.

‘IT’S TWO, ISN’T IT?’ He texts back after an hour, and you probably look like a fool with how giddy you are.

You text him back immediately: ‘How does twelve sound?’

‘ACCEPTABLE.’ is what he ends up sending back. You hit him up with the one true kaomoji.

‘(=^･ω･^=)’

His response makes you giggle helplessly: ‘(๑•̀ㅁ•́๑)✧’

Sans truly is a man of culture.


	2. Chapter 2

It became a regular thing, being invited to Sans's house for tea and pastries. It ruled. After the first few times of you saying his tea was delicious, he stopped looking like he half dreaded your thoughts, and instead seemed rather excited - you even think you saw little stars in his eyes once, after you had really gushed about a particular chilled berry tea. 

No matter how much work made you want to curl up in bed and just sleep the rest of the day away, you never once missed an invitation. But! On this fine Sunday morning, you were determined to pick some things up to donate to a local community run soup kitchen! From what you'd looked up, you'd made a little list in your phone for ingredients that they always needed, and so, at five thirty in the morning, you stepped outside your apartment, realized it was much too chilly to have forgotten your jacket, and then you saw Sans.

You froze, and he seemed to be in much the same position, so before he could even say anything, you gestured wildly as you said, raising your voice, "I! Will be right back!!" 

You dug through your messy pile of clean clothes haphazardly strewn across a storage bin and managed to find your big, fuzzy lavender hoodie. It was your favorite!! 

In your hands, you had also grabbed a lesser used coat that just barely still fit you: when you opened your door, you were relieved to find him still standing there, so as he raised a bone (brow?) at you, you fumbled your way through explaining.

"Oh! Um, I just needed to grab a jacket, but… I worried you might be cold too, so here!" You thrust out the coat in your grasp as if it were a deadly animal in need of releasing. He smirked at you and took it, clearing his throat (???).

"AHEM," He actually said aloud, almost making you lose your entire bowl of gosh dang marbles, "HUMAN NEIGHBOR, YOU ARE QUITE STRANGE." Before you could even begin to question that hilariously hypocritical statement, he continued, his voice a little louder.

"BUT! I WILL ALLOW IT!! MY REGARDS TO YOU HUMAN, AS I WILL GIVE CREDIT WHERE CREDIT SHOULD HAVE ALREADY BEEN: YOU WILL NOT FOOL ME AGAIN WITH ANY OF YOUR SHREWD/CUNNING PERSONALITY TRAITS!!" This man actually said 'slash' out loud. And he just kept going.

Sans pointed, at you, this time with black gloves that flared out towards the elbow. "NOW, HUMAN. WHERE ARE YOU PLANNING TO TAKE THAT LOVELY OUTER WEAR?" 

What a dork; you didn't even realize you were smiling until you spoke. "Oh! I was just planning to buy some food to donate. Where were you going, if you don't mind me asking?" 

He clasps his arms behind his back and stands just a bit straighter. "AH. I DON'T: I HAVE JUST FINISHED MY MORNING RUN." He always leaves you with questions, Sans, but you have to wonder - _what time does he wake up, exactly??_

And you're blurting out something before you even think that there are, in fact, words coming out of your mouth. As one does. "Would you.. want to come with me?" 

He looks surprised as he stares and hesitates. To his credit, he looks sincerely disappointed as he says, "NORMALLY I WOULD BE PLEASED TO ACCEPT YOUR REQUEST OF ESCORT, BUT ALAS, HUMAN. MY DEVIOUS EYES HAVE ALREADY BEEN PROMISED TO THE TASK OF SCOUTING NEW CUISINE APPLICATIONS!" 

You try and fail to smother the snort that deserves, and Sans looks like he regretted the sentence the second it left his mouth, and now can't decide between being angry or laughing.

"I'll leave you to it then," you say, fingering the sleeves that hang past your fingers; you've never bought a jacket smaller than a 1x. "Try not to _wear_ yourself out too much!" 

As you pass him, you see him with clenched fists and a glare worthy of being called fierce. It's only when you pass the corner, out of sight, that he allows himself to start cackling.

You have never before heard such flustered giggles.

* * *

The trip to the store is relaxing in its utter predictability, and after you've gotten everything on your list, you double back through the aisles for miscellaneous breakfast stuffs (even if you hardly ever have the time to eat it at the proper time). Waffles with strawberry syrup… Miraculous.

It's as you pass by the plethora of teas that you stop straight where you are and realize you need to invite Sans over to your own home: you need to make him tea!!

But none of these store bought teas are quite up to snuff, and you squint at them menacingly before marching up to the nearest cashier and politely return their employee mandated greetings. You pay and gather your things, walking back to your apartment in what's really less of a walk and more of an enthused jog. 

After making sure your neighbor is nowhere in sight, you slowly, nonchalantly strut up to your door and, once you're inside - well, naturally you play the world's speediest game of Put Up the Groceries before running to your laptop and searching for quality tea:

'high qaulity leaves'

What comes up is mostly Absolute Garbage, not limited to two different posts about two entirely dissimilar leaf sculptures (you send the link to your sister and hope she finds it as funny as you do), but there's also a lot of articles about weed of all things. You revise your original search to actually include the word 'tea' this time, and find massive improvements all around. It isn't long before you find the address to a specialty store; you can feel your bank account growing smaller already.

So you've set out once again and feel acute relief at the fact that it isn't that far from the apartments - you are not a fan of Exercise…

You were right in the fact that everything's a bit on the pricey side, but you listen to the recommendations of the clerk and feel good about your purchases: for Sans, cinnamon fig (it smells amazing) and for yourself, you couldn't help but pick up some bags of green pomegranate! Everything gets put into cute bags stamped with the store's logo, and the cheerful employee waves you out with a smile. 

"Thank you!" You call one final time before stepping outside. If everything works out, hopefully you'll be visiting again very soon!

* * *

'How are you doing?' Your mom texts you a little while after you get done decompressing at home - she's always been listed in your phone as Mum, even if your sister is stuck with her name.

You both text back and forth for a bit, smiling at all the ridiculous things the both of you are prone to say, before you remember that you haven't told anyone about Sans yet, which is something that must be remedied immediately: he's been such a good friend to you. 

'A skeleton monster??' She asks, and you nearly burst out laughing. Your mom doesn't have a problem with monsters at all (neither does your sister) but you can hear her voice in the way she types and. 

'What's his name?' She sends a few seconds after the first, because she likes to ask you questions.

You love her a lot.

So you tell her and tell her, and maybe a few years ago you would have been vague about it (you're still not the best at conversations) but you're excited: you write her paragraphs, which in hindsight is a little embarrassing. But only a little.

Before you know it, an hour has gone by from just words and emoticons. 

'He sounds great!' She tells you, a little smiley face following the tail of the previous message.

'He is!! :D' You send back, and then the two of you just send emojis back and forth until eventually one of you stops sending them. You know she'll tell your sister all about it, probably tonight, and as you lay sprawled on the couch that afternoon, you're happy.

* * *

When you nervously bring over the fancy Gift Tea, Sans snaps to attention like a military soldier - he is at once rigid and alert.

You try to hand him his tea. "I wanted to give you some tea for a change! It's cinnamon fig flavor, and as soon as I smelled it I thought of you. Um. I hope you like it." 

He takes the tea and looks you over with one eye that is painted suspicious over purple (is that magic???) while the other is stained with an emotion you can't quite place; all of a sudden, you feel a chill roam over your body, and it makes goosebumps erupt along your arms. You can't look away, because Sans is _looking right through you_ and - 

"YOU'RE WEAK," Sans tells you, his voice quiet, but full. It is a sentence that seems to hang over him - it casts shadows over his face where light should be, where smirks and smiles should rest. 

He says it like it's something to be proud of; he says the words like he's paranoid of ever having cradled them in his skull to begin with.

"Yeah," you agree, because he's right. You've always been this way. But - 

You blink. "There are worse things to be." 

He sighs and for a moment, that's all he seems to be. Then.

"IF -" he stops. Starts again and gestures towards his kitchen. "WOULD YOU LIKE TO SEE THE NEW APPLIANCES?" 

Yeah, you really would. But first! "I thought they were applications?" It is a question that must be asked, no matter the cost. 

Sans's tenseness finally slips away (like a shroud falling down, down, down) and he finally musters a slightly tired smirk for you. You appreciate the effort he puts in. (You admire him.)

"YES, MY NEW INSTRUMENTS OF PASSION." You laugh, quirtly, and watch as some hidden part of himself seems to shyly grow: he is smiling now.

"The only thing to make this better would be passion fruit tea. Really commit to it." He glances over and meets your eyes, sly.

"NEXT TIME, THEN. ALAS, THERE IS TO BE ONLY ONE TEA PER LUNCHEON/EVENING LUNCHEON. HAVE YOU NOT BEEN READING THE ACQUAINTANCESHIP GUIDELINES, HUMAN?" 

You grin, feeling bubbly and nice. "No." And before that amusement in his eyes turns into witty words, you interrupt him: "I've been going by Friendship Law." 

You don't know why, but it seems you are eternally doomed to make him stop and stare at you every time you meet. 

Sans ducks his skull down, hiding from you for a moment. "I.. SEE." He looks back up and his eyelights almost seem to… visibly soften? The purple's been long gone. 

"THEN, LET US NOT TARRY, HUMAN. THERE IS TEA TO BE MADE." 

And as he shows you all the interesting new cooking things he bought earlier in the day, you feel something warm and wonderful in your chest as you watch him gesture and preen and sometimes begin to shout he's so enthusiastic.

He looks happy. 

You're the one serving the tea this time, you insist to him, almost having to herd him back to his living room. He reluctantly relents, and by the time you bring out the cinnamon fig you're still so proud of, his eyelights come back inside dark sockets, and he seems much more relaxed - probably because of the aromatic tea. You're glad.

No pastries this time to go along with it (even though he no doubt has some) because you kjnd of forgot. But you sit down and watch as he takes a sip, and you can't bring yourself to mind. 

"IT'S… ALMOST HERBAL, WITH HINTS OF SWEETNESS, BUT… THE CINNAMON BRINGS OUT THE BEST IN THE OTHER INGREDIENTS." 

You drink too, and have to agree. It's really good! "I really like it." 

Sans dips his head in a nod. "YES. THANK YOU FOR BRINGING IT, HU -" He chuckles to himself and then shoots you a wicked looking smirk. "MY FRIEND."

"You're welcome," is all you say, and the two of you spend the rest of your time in a comfortable silence. You only break it when you're bringing the tea set into the kitchen to wash, no matter how much Sans protests - fair is fair.

You end up washing while he dries.

"Do you have a favorite tea yet?" 

He hums, natural and at home with chores, it seems. "NOT YET. BUT…" he trails off.

You pick it back up for him. "But?"

He keeps drying the same cup until he realizes and stops, setting it down gently. "DO YOU HAVE A FAVORITE FLOWER?"

He asks like it's a small hill to overcome: maybe to him, it is. So you spend a minute thinking about your answer, because you know that it matters. But you find that your answer, even after all these years, hasn't changed.

"Red spider lilies," you say, and even you can hear how fond you sound. "I've always loved them, from the moment I first saw them. What about you?" 

He turns to look at you and your heart aches; how can he look so terribly wounded, just from a question? Like it's a hit he can't afford to take. He says nothing to you, but you still want to try.

"I won't tell anyone," and your words are a declaration spilling from your lips and you never want them back. Let him hear them and have them, hold them close to his soul.

"DO YOU PROMISE?" he asks, grave and still, and when you say yes, he turns away from you and grips the counter, hard. You can hear his gloves as they twist.

The word eventually comes: "HYACINTH," and his voice has never been quieter. It seems to ring out - the kitchen a cathedral for just a few moments. You don't dare ask him why.

Instead - "I really love cacti, too, though. They never die." 

Maybe your words give him the strength to face you again, but really, you think it's more than likely that he's just a strong person. 

"YOUR FLOWERS COME AS NO SURPRISE." You look at him and ask.

Sans crosses his arms against his chest with an expression that can only be described as 'smug superiority'. 

"THEY SUIT YOU, HUMAN." is all he ends up replying, but somehow, you feel it's one of the best compliments you've ever received. And you wonder, smile on your face, if what they say about monsters is true: that they're all about _intent_ when it comes to words, actions, emotions. Because if it is, you think over whether or not he meant for them to settle so _warm_ over your heart. You have no doubt that he means them.

You start laughing because it spills out of you like custard from a donut - a little sudden and a little surprised. "I'm really glad!" Is what you manage to get out, and it may sound weird but they're your words and you mean them. Hopefully, that makes things a bit less weird.

Sans cocks a hip, his face content, and you gather that it does.


	3. Chapter 3

People have called you strange before, and maybe you are? You've always been perfectly content going through life with your contact list only consisting of your current boss and your family. You've never really… made friends with anyone before, aside from two girls in middle school who you probably pissed off (on account of you saying you didn't want to be friends anymore; your family was moving in a few weeks).

So. Yeah. You don't even have a track record, if you're being honest. Twenty three years and it still feels like you're seventeen sometimes. But you don't mind being strange, not when you get to lounge on your bed for hours and read fanfiction or play video games or watch videos on your laptop. 

It's not that you're opposed to the idea of friends; you just want one that lets you go at your own pace.

It's really weird, now that you're thinking about it, just how fast you and Sans hit it off. It's weird, but it's _good_. There are some days where the two of you will just sit in silence. Others, you both stumble over each other's words in your haste to get them out. And it's good.

You have never in your life been a social person - you leave that to your mother. But you wouldn't even mind if Sans knocked on your door at three in the morning to drag you to town.

It's a good thing you're a morning person.

"Ah, come in I guess?" You open the door for him and he hurries inside, casting multiple through looks about your apartment. The only room you decorated is yours, but your living room does have a fluffy grey couch, and there are some cute wooden bookshelves along the wall (all full). That's about as much effort as you wanted to expend. 

Today Sans is at his most casual: some fur lined boots (sadly, not thigh highs), a simple yet refined loose heather sweater, along with a pair of grey tights over black shorts. You bet he's the kind of person to not really care about fashion one way or the other, but who ends up trying to match and look good anyways.

"I ALREADY KNOW YOU'RE MUCH LIKE MY BROTHER WHEN IT COMES TO ARTICLES OF CLOTHING (I DESPAIR OF THIS EVERY DAY) BUT I DEMAND TO KNOW: WHO IS THIS TINY BUT SOFT WHITE KITTEN WITH A MONOPOLY OF PASTEL HUMAN ORGANS??" Meanwhile, you're out here, sleep rumbled and clad in a large comfy shirt (you only put it on because you had company) but the real kicker are your pajama pants: black and you better bet - Hello Kitty patterned. 

You smile at him, excited. "She's Hello Kitty. I love her." You explain absolutely nothing because you think it's funnier that way.

Sans hums thoughtfully, white lace gloves (they're back!) rubbing at his chin. Er, jaw? "I SEE; THIS KITTEN IS YOUR IDOL. YOU ASPIRE TO BE LIKE HER, DO YOU NOT? I MUST ADMIT, SHE DOES LOOK RATHER FIERCE SURROUNDED AS SHE IS BY THE ORGANS." He gives you a smirk. "I APPROVE!" 

You are still groggy, so the next words that come out of your mouth are of course, "Dang, that's the cat's meow right there." You have much less of a filter when you are sleepy. It is the only excuse you have.

Sans puts hands on his hips as he gives you an impressed look. Eh, they can't all be winners. As much as you like puns and wordplay, you can't pun for heck. 

Firm phalanges push you out of the living room. "GO GET PRESENTABLE, HUMAN. BEFORE YOU TRY MY PATIENCE." 

Giggling under your breath, you set about finding some clean clothes. Not all of what you own is in The Pile; you do in fact own a dozen or so hangers and employ their use judiciously when it comes to your _nice_ clothes: some sweaters, a lot of graphic tees, a random bra or two. 

You eventually settle on a black sweater with adorable little pumpkins, some lavender jeans, and to top it all off - your favorite pair of Converse (your only pair) which are navy blue and worn from the years. You'll have to get a new pair soon; you hope they have yellow in stock this time.

You're about to walk back out, but you pause at the bathroom. You hardly ever wear make up (the only reason you bought it was because it was Hello Kitty themed) but you wouldn't mind some today!

You only have lipstick and eye shadow - you don't bother with all the rest of it. You prefer the super glossy stuff; can't stand mattes. 

You use your finger to spread some white, super glittery shadow over your eyes, and decide on a liquid gold for your lips. The end result looks cute! You put the tubes back inside your Hello Kitty makeup bag but forget to zip it closed. You always do.

You walk into your living room to find Sans sitting politely, a book in his lap. He fingers the pages while focused eye lights study the words intently. You thought he hadn't noticed you, but he looks up when you come closer and then settle right next to him, cross legged and relaxed.

"WHY IS THIS… NARWHAL?? BEING REFERRED TO AS A UNICORN? HUMAN, I HAVE MANY QUESTIONS." He sounded so perplexed it was all you could do to stifle your laughter. But oh gosh - he'd found _that_ book. You could never forget it. 

You slouch, getting comfortable as he closes the book to instead focus on you. "I remember that book. I first read it in… I think it was third or fourth grade? I was mostly confused by everything in it, but I really loved reading it; I'd get so into it, sometimes it felt like sound fell away." 

You flex your toes. "I thought it was 'science fantasy' and I was so fascinated by something I'd never read before."

He tilts his skull slightly. "AS A BABYBONES, YOU MUST HAVE BEEN QUITE PRECOCIOUS; I KNOW THAT PAPYRUS WAS." 

You wave your hand dismissively and shift your legs to touch the floor. That's certainly never been something you've been accused of before. "I don't know about that, but…" you smile to yourself, gently running a nail over your cuticles in a pattern that goes one finger, then another, all in a line. "I still think that's the book that got me interested in looking up words."

"Have you ever searched for a word in the dictionary just because it's fun? It's kind of a hobby now." 

Sans chuckled and got to his feet. Then, he turned towards you only to offer a gloved hand; it had never felt more natural to take it in your own.

"WELL THEN, HUMAN. WILL YOU PERMIT ME TO SHOW YOU ONE OF MINE?" 

Once you were awake, it was hard to go back to sleep, even if you wanted to. Besides, you'd already made your choice the moment you invited him in. 

"Yes," you said simply, voice still a little deep from just waking up. 

The two of you wore matching smiles; he forgot to let your hand go until halfway down the hallway, where he immediately apologized.

You didn't mind at all.

His car is a thing to behold: a simple but utilitarian black truck. You get kind of excited whenever you get into a truck, because you have to almost hop up to get in, and once you do, it almost feels as if you’re being cradled by something much larger than you. But even if you and Sans are basically the same height, you doubt that’s the reason why he has it.

Maybe he just likes trucks.

Right as he pulls out of the apartment’s parking lot and leans out to push the button to unlock the gate, it’s surprisingly smooth sailing. You didn’t know what you expected, really, but he’s the kind of driver that doesn’t give you secondhand anxiety; he’s a very methodical driver (but not slow). More like, he’s cautious and careful, considerate to anything in his field of vision - some would call it paranoia, but when it comes to something that could potentially kill you at any time, you figure that some paranoia is healthy. (You try your absolute best to avoid driving whenever possible, and sometimes when it isn’t.)

The real challenge comes when the two of you need to pick a radio station; Sans seemed perfectly fine with just driving in silence, and truthfully, you wouldn’t have minded either, but you’re also used to years of car trips with your family where picking the music became sort of comforting.

When something becomes so known to you, and you let yourself know it… maybe a little bit of it becomes a tiny part of you. (You can’t let a Christmas pass without painting your nails; there is not a night that goes by where you don’t leave the lights on in your bedroom.)

At first, he just leaves it on a generic pop station - and as much as you like pop, you just usually dislike all the garbage they air. So you ask him if it's alright to change the station; he tells you 'OF COURSE!' as if offended you even had to ask.

Country, soul, disco… on and on stations go, with both you and Sans becoming tenser and tenser the further it goes. At this point, it's you're a party of two fighting a miniboss.

Blowing out a breath, you hesitantly turn the dial once more. "This has gotta be the one," you murmur, more to yourself.

Sans has had one hand tapping the steering wheel, on and off for about three minutes now. As soon as music bursts out the speakers, you're reflexively nervous, but once you actually hear it - the both of you relax; boss defeated!

And that is how you learned that Sans is a fan of Shinedown (so are you, really). 

You don't sing along, but you do clap like you're at a concert whenever Sans does. You tell him he has a wonderful singing voice and he tsks. Tsks! But as you're squinting menacingly at him (trying not to smile) you hear him chuckling.

"YOU'RE RIDICULOUS," and though his eyes never leave the road, you can already see the edges of his amusement.

"Thank you!" Because you like being ridiculous; he brings it out in you.

You roll the window down to feel the brisk, cool morning air slip through your fingers. The road is nearly empty and everything outside your little bubble is still asleep… there is something about early mornings or late nights that makes you hold your breath; it is beautiful, you think, to be so still. 

"So where are we going?" It only occurs to you to ask that question sixteen minutes deep in the ride. You spot the corners of a smirk beginning to unfurl on his face. He tells you, voice playful:

"A PLACE WHERE BLADES NEVER LEAVE A SCAR." What.

You have to think about that one for a moment or two. "So… a cooking competition? Or maybe… flower arrangement!?" You’d be hecking psyched if that were the case - you’ve always wanted to try those!

He bursts out into loud and long cackles while you pout. Welp.

* * *

He brought you to an ice skating rink. (It ended up being a little over an hour drive.) You probably shouldn't have worn jeans for this.

"PROBABLY NOT," Sans said, unconcerned. He motioned for you to follow him, and since this was the first time you'd ever been in a rink, you followed his advice in what skates to wear and how to balance, etc.

Don't we need to pay?" You asked, mostly to distract yourself from how nervous you were. 

He waved a hand in dismissal. "THEY KNOW I'M GOOD FOR IT." Well. Okay, you guess.Next time you'd just have to insist on covering the costs yourself, or at least splitting the bill.

It’s just wild to you that an ice skating place is open this early? And that there are actually other people here as well??

He stops you at the entrance to the ice and from behind his back, he hands you a pair of gloves; they're his, the usual black ones. You take them, a little confused, and he must see that because he explains.

And he smiles at you, ever so slightly. "DID YOU THINK I'D ALLOW YOU TO GO OUT THERE WITHOUT FIRST PREPARING YOU?" 

You smile back, grateful and warm amongst all this ice. "Thank you." 

He scoffs at that. "HUMAN, I DON'T KNOW IF YOU'VE HEARD, BUT MONSTERS ARE MADE OF LOVE, HOPE… COMPASSION." He gets a bit quieter and looks at you. "WE'RE FRIENDS; THERE'S NO NEED TO THANK ME." 

It hits you, right then and there, just how lucky you are to have him. Maybe he can hear how emotional you are when you ask him, "Then what do I say instead?" 

"THERE'S NO NEED FOR WORDS, HUMAN. I'LL KNOW." You don't quite understand, not really, but if he's more comfortable with things like this, then who are you to deny him? Monsters are also made of magic. Maybe, when he sees your soul, it tells him everything you're too shy to say. 

That would be.. nice. 

He clears his throat and offers you a hand. Without hesitation, you take it and smile at him. You're ready to have fun! You just hope he goes easy on a beginner. 

Spoiler: he does not. 

When he's not (with a surprising amount of patience) guiding you, he's performing for you, tricks and moves that make you ooh and aah, which only seems to make him try harder to get reactions out of you. 

It also appears that he overestimates you way too much, if he thinks you can just… copy the way he moves?? He's a veteran player where here you are, the newbie who's intimidated by all the buttons and information flashing across the screen.

Eventually, you sort of manage to glide (with a hand always on the rail) and have a fun time watching him. For once, he doesn't care what he looks like; he lets loose and does whatever he wants, even challenging a few people who appear to be regulars like him ("TOO SCARED, MICHEAL?", "YOU MUST STILL BE INTIMIDATED FROM OUR LAST BOUT… I DON'T BLAME YOU.", "FUCKING FIGHT ME, GLINDA!")

He makes you laugh a lot, and sometimes he'll turn back to you and his eyes will be bright and sparkling purple stars. Your face aches with the force of your grin as you beam at him, every time. 

After a while, he somehow manages to coax you off of the rail - you're slow going as you try your best at skating, Sans a silent but intent spectator. Of course, after two minutes of you feeling pretty good about yourself, you fumble and then take a sprawl all over the ice. You oof from the force of it, and look over only to find Sans trying not to laugh. 

If he's not going to, someone needs to. It might as well be you. 

"HUMAN, WHAT ARE YOU DOING??" He asks, perfectly exasperated once you've shown no signs of moving. 

You sigh. "You're ice cold, man. Figured I should…" and here you wiggle your eyebrows, the very definition of the word ‘unrepentant’. " _Chill_." 

You're so proud of yourself when he ends up half snorting, half shrieking as he moves to book it closer to you (you swear your life flashes before your eyes) only to somehow, hilariously, forget that he’s wearing skates. He trips over himself and face plants right next to you. 

“Wow,” you say, grinning from ear to ear. You get up and offer him a hand. When he takes it, muttering under his breath about ‘crafty humans’, you bow theatrically, eyes peeking up at his.

“Sorry. I couldn’t help myself.” 

Sans huffs but it’s without heat. “I SEE IT IS TO BE UP TO ME TO REIN IN YOUR… IMPULSES, THEN. WELL, IT’S NOTHING I’M NOT USED TO.”

The two of you take a seat at a nearby bench after removing your skates; it seems a good time to take a little break. You notice that his socks (lace, to match his gloves) feature little frowney faces all over, which is adorable. He must either get them custom made, or from a small monster run business. (For some reason, monsters can be very particular about their socks?)

“Your brother… Papyrus, right? You’ve told me a little about him before.” You smile at him, taking your feet to sit cross legged. It’s the most comfy position!!

“He sounds just as cool as you!” He looks at you and blushes a faint lavender, waving his hands in an emphatic x motion. It’s endearing how he can never seem to take a compliment.

“AHEM. _AS I WAS SAYING_ …” and he actually side eyes you here, which only makes you blink back innocently. He sighs, long suffering. “YOU REMIND ME OF HIM, HUMAN.”

You do? But… Papyrus sounds so cool and nice and _good_ , how Sans describes him. (You’re not blind to the fact that he always has a certain look on his face whenever his brother gets brought up - right now, he’s smiling. But it’s almost melancholy.) There’s no way you remind him of someone… who shines like that, right?

Sans suddenly sits up straighter and glares at you, his fists clenched. His voice is loud and fearless, like he doesn’t care who hears; maybe he doesn’t care in the first place. “I CAN SEE YOU! DOING A SAD!! WELL, HUMAN, I WON’T STAND FOR IT!” Without hesitating, he offers you his hand, and when you take it, he squeezes it. A little hard, but reassuring. 

“I AM A SKELETON WITH VERY HIGH STANDARDS. AND YET YOU’VE MANAGED TO EXCEED MY EVERY EXPECTATION… BOTH AS A HUMAN AND AS SOMEONE WHO IS MY FRIEND. WHO IS IT THAT TEXTS ME MEMES AT TWELVE AT NIGHT? WHO ALWAYS SHOWS UP RIGHT ON TIME FOR OUR TEA TIME? YOU _LISTEN_ TO ME, HUMAN. I DON’T KNOW IF YOU’VE REALIZED HOW HIGHLY I VALUE THAT.” He leans in a little bit closer, his eye lights razor sharp and intent. “HOW HIGHLY I VALUE YOUR COMPANY.”

You feel like your breath has gotten knocked out of you along with your words. But he keeps talking.

“YOU’VE TOLD ME ABOUT BAD DAYS, ABOUT HOW GLAD YOU ARE THEY’RE OVER; YOU ALWAYS TRY YOUR BEST. COMING FROM ANYONE ELSE, IT WOULDN’T AMOUNT TO MUCH - BUT YOU?” He laughs dryly to himself. “YOU’VE TOLD ME THAT IF YOU LEARN ONLY ONE THING, IT WASN’T A WASTED EXPERIENCE.” 

He squeezes, once, twice, until you learn to squeeze back; his bones beneath the gloves are firm but not hard. They hold yours like he’s determined not to let go.

“I have to try,” you say, quiet. It’s important that you always _try_. 

He smiles, his eyes still picking you apart; not to make you nervous - merely to dissect the source of whatever it was that he saw. “YOU ARE PATIENCE AND PERSEVERANCE. JUST LIKE HIM. YOU’RE… MY FIRST REAL FRIEND. PLEASE… DO NOT DOUBT YOURSELF. DO NOT DOUBT THAT YOU ARE IMPORTANT.” His voice gets a lot quieter towards the end.

Your eyes are watering, and you know he sees. You wipe an arm over them before they start running. “It takes a lot to make me cry, you know. But… yeah.” You laugh, a little choked up. “Yeah, you’re the first friend I’ve had since I was a child.” 

“Thank you for being my friend, Sans.”

He softens, is the only word you can find that fits. It is like watching the sun rise, how everything in him seems to come alive and awake and focused once more. He looks at you and it’s like he’s seeing something he never wants to leave alone. Someone.

You mean, honestly, big same.

Later, after the two of you exit the skating rink, after you both get out of his truck awesome truck and walk the hallway leading to your respective apartments, he stops and asks you something, excitement and all sorts of thoughts whirling behind his eyes.

“THIS WEDNESDAY… WOULD YOU BE AMENABLE TO TAKING DINNER WITH ME?”

Oh heck yeah. “If your cooking’s anything like your tea… a thousand times yes, please.” You smile as he laughs, putting his hands on his hips as he arches a brow and then gives you a sharp looking smirk.

“PERFECT. I’LL HAVE TO CALL PAPYRUS AND LET HIM KNOW WE’LL HAVE COMPANY, THEN.”

And before you can even open your mouth, he shoots you a wink. A wink!

“AS ALWAYS, I LOOK FORWARD TO YOUR VISIT, FLOWER.” You’re left standing out in the hallway as his door slams shut, eyes wide. Papyrus? The cool brother!?!? 

Wait. Was that… a nickname!?!?!? 

You go inside and make yourself a cup of green pomegranate. You need some of that fruit in your life right now.

You text Sans a frowney face. He hits you back up immediately.

‘IN WHAT CONTEXT?’ This guy.

‘You’re ridiculous. :( to your wicked scheme you probably just thought up to get me and your borother to meet. But!! :) all the way to cute nicknames,,,, pls’

‘MWAH HA HA. YOU’VE FALLEN INTO MY TRAP, HUMAN.’ 

‘Dang. Help. I’ve fallen and I can’t get up.’ You’re smiling.

‘THEN PERISH.’ You cackle to yourself, stomach hurting from how hard that makes you laugh. You can’t help yourself and send him one more message:

‘:(‘ 

Now. It’s Sunday. That means you have two entire days to stress over how to get along with your best friend’s brother! Talk about fun times.

But you can admit… you’re mostly excited to meet him. You’re nervous, because what if he doesn’t like you? What if he thinks you’re no good for Sans? 

But you remember what Sans said, and you… try to let all of that worry go. Whatever happens, happens. You’ll just have to try your best to make things go smoothly. Come to think of it…

Didn’t Sans say that Papyrus was fond of puns? You smirk to yourself, wiggling your fingers in anticipation.

Two days is a lot of days to look up every single skeleton pun you can possibly find. Sans and Papyrus won’t know what them this Wednesday - you’ll make sure of it. It! Is going! To be! 

A great dinner!!


	4. Chapter 4

You haven’t been having the best two days, you’ll admit. It was just one thing after another, mostly work. You were a cashier at a small restaurant about thirty minutes out from your apartment, and some days, some customers really wanted to try your patience. Of course, you remained polite and professional, even if sometimes you wished you could just disappear for a moment. Whenever something got to be too much, you’d just take a deep breath and remind yourself to stay calm, to keep going, that after this it would just be another customer, until eventually, there would be none.

It’s no big deal, you’d tell yourself. You’ve done this before. You’re good at this! 

Then, the moment would pass, and eventually you’d clock out a few hours later. The lunch rush wasn’t really a big deal to you; you’d long since had that on lockdown. No, what really gave you trouble were the single customers that came in when it wasn’t busy only to absolutely baffle or frustrate you. You’d had customers who insulted both you and the establishment when you calmly informed them that you were out of stock of mango at the moment, I’m sorry. You’ve had a group of girls laugh at how you mispronounced someone’s name.

You’ve tried to handle customers’ anger and impatience whenever you were short handed during a rush. Whenever you try to explain that it could take a while, only for them to agree but then ten minutes later accuse the restaurant of having horrible service, you just keep going.

You like this job - you’ve had a few years and now you have a routine; you know how everything is supposed to go. It’s just that sometimes, there are bad days, maybe because of customers, or even because of your coworkers. You wouldn’t call it hard, because to you it isn’t, but it does tire you out.

The point is, that Tuesday evening, you were just happy that you were finally off work. You were really looking forward to tomorrow - you wanted it to go well. Mostly, you just wanted to have a good time, and for Sans and his brother to have one too.

You’d even gone out and bought some cran grape juice to go with the dinner! You would have bought wine, or something, but you don’t drink alcohol and who knows if Sans or his brother does either. So you decided to play it safe - everybody likes juice! (You really hope they’re alright with juice.)

Whenever you have an Important Outing to go to, you find that it helps you to pick your outfit the day before. So you root through your mess of clothes and try to find the perfect outfit. You think about wearing your cute red shorts for a second, but then you remember that you don’t shave your legs and wonder if they’d mind? It’s hard to fight against an ingrained social stigma all by yourself, but you try. They probably wouldn’t, but even if they did, it’s your body. You should just do what you want!

You still end up spending twenty minutes debating whether or not to wear leggings under the shorts. You’re not a brave person, and you know that some people would laugh at you for thinking that this could be such a big deal, but it is. You want to be honest, but what are you supposed to do when it’s society that has spent years trying to make you lie?

You breathe out a sigh. This is stupid. You flail your shorts around like a madman simply because it makes you feel a tiny bit better.

You tentatively lay your shorts on your bed. No leggings.

Next, you need something for up top! You’ve never been someone overly concerned with matching, which drives your family absolutely bonkers. You just like wearing what’s comfy! So you eventually decided on your special big and fluffy rainbow pride sweater. Go big or go home.

There’s a moment where you have the picture of knocking on Sans’s door wearing a pretty and airy summer dress, but you shake the thought away. You don’t have any dresses right now. But… maybe later, you could ask Sans to help you look for one?

You’re hopeless when it comes to shopping, and… (if he was there, he would help.)

You end up forgetting to eat dinner - you get too absorbed in playing strategy games again. You’d hardly remember to feed yourself if it wasn’t for the fact that you do love food; you get the odd craving for jam sandwiches or for muffins and such. 

After turning off your console and getting ready for bed, which merely involves brushing your teeth and then shucking off your shirt, you burrow under your comforter (Hello Kitty themed, of course, gotten as an eighteenth birthday present from your mom and sister) and spend a couple minutes just thinking. About Papyrus, about dinner, about you. 

When you reach for your phone and check the time, it’s already eleven. You go to Sans’s name in your contacts and hit call.

He answers immediately, and you can hear how taken aback he is. “HUMAN? ARE YOU SAFE?”

You reply before he can think to come over and break down your door, the goof. “Sans… do you think he’ll like me?” 

The silence that follows is hushed, and you can’t help but lay there holding your phone, listening to the distant sound of cars honking and dogs barking. 

“DID YOU KNOW THAT HE ASKED ME THE VERY SAME QUESTION?” You can hear a slight tap, tap, tap, and you wonder if he’s making tea in his kitchen. “THE TWO OF YOU REALLY ARE MORE ALIKE THAN YOU THINK.” 

“He really said the same thing?” You ask, because that’s wild. “But I already like him - he’s your brother.” You’ve heard a lot about Papyrus already - that he likes making friends, that he can talk your ears off (“IF I HAD ANY!”), how he can be so stubborn, how he likes to take his time with things - how, when he was younger, he secretly wanted to follow Sans into the Royal Guard (“HE THOUGHT IT WOULD MEAN THE WHOLE UNDERGROUND WOULD WANT TO BE HIS FRIEND…”). 

Sans told you how smart he was, how he’s already gotten a degree and also how excited and focused he gets whenever he’s faced with mysteries or riddles. How he loves anime but mostly the ones in the _shoujo_ genre. He gushed about how Papyrus is as a person, as his brother. It was the only time you really saw such a big smile on his face - how could you not already like the guy? How can you not admire him, the way Sans talks about him so proudly? 

How could Papyrus be worried about making friends when he’s so... cool?

“IT FIGURES THAT THE TWO PEOPLE WHOM I AM STUCK WITH ARE SUCH BONEHEADS,” Sans says, really and truly exasperated. “HERE, HUMAN, I WILL GIVE YOU HIS NUMBER: I EXPECT THE TWO OF YOU TO SOOTHE EACH OTHER’S WORRIES POSTHASTE!” 

W-what?? But…

You can hear the concern in his voice as he speaks up once more, and it takes the figurative wind out of your figurative wind mills. “I… AM NOT GOOD AT THIS. BUT MY BROTHER IS! SO… EVEN IF YOU ARE BOTH EACH OTHER’S CAUSE OF STRESS, I AM CERTAIN THAT HE WILL KNOW THE NEXT STEP.” And then, softer, hesitant: “HE’S JUST AS NERVOUS AS YOU.”

And it suddenly hits you that even _Sans_ has probably been fretting over this whole dinner. It’s kind of funny that absolutely everyone invited is stressing so bad over it all, but at the same time, it’s almost a little… reassuring? You’re all in the same boat; you all want the same thing.

You feel like you can breathe a little better, now. “Everything’s going to be fine, Sans. I promise.” 

He huffs and tells you in no uncertain terms that he’s not the one who called him ‘PRACTICALLY CAUSING A CHEMICAL SPILL WITH YOUR EMOTIONS; THEY ARE EVERYWHERE!?”, but you let yourself smile and say a cheerful goodbye before hanging up. Then, you save a new number into your contacts and hit him up.

‘Hi! This is Sans’s human neighbor! You’re Papyrus, right? I’ve heard a lot about you and look forward to meeting you tomorrow!’ It’s too early for emojis, much as you want to send him a cat face.

He responds immediately, which helps you relax. ‘oh. yeah. i’ve heard a lot about you too. sans told me you liked natsume yuujinchou?’ Oh. My gosh?? 

‘He told you about my taste in anime???’ 

‘yeah. you’ve got good taste, but i don’t really like stuff like death note or naruto. kaiji’s amazing tho’ You are so embarrassed...you can’t believe he told Papyrus about your favorite anime. Who? Does that??? (Why can’t Sans be into anime… so you can embarrass him over being really into _seinan_ or something?)

‘you’re really into psychological stuff, right? i mostly stick to romance and magic girls.’ He seems perfectly willing to just… talk about anime with you, but no! You can’t get distracted! You must stay on track.

‘Anyways! Um, do you like juice?’ You facepalm; why are you like this.

‘hehehe. i know a jerry who doesn’t. why?’ You still don’t know if he’s alright with cran-grape. You almost forget that it’s supposed to be a surprise, and so you just… change the subject.

‘Never mind! Please.’ Really, don’t mind it. ‘You’re scary.’ ???????????????? Who just typed that? Surely not you?? You try to look for the delete button, and after some furious miss clicking that takes place, you manage to yeet that sentence out of your phone and somewhere in the stratosphere. 

‘me?’ Dear gosh, this is so awkward. How could you be such a… such a dummy!? With the rate you’re going, this guy is never going to take you seriously. And now you’re freezing up, just staring blankly at your phone. You can’t even tell if he’s angry or confused or…

‘hey. can i call you?’ Wide eyed, you type back a ‘Sure’. Even though you generally get anxious over people calling you. Over making calls yourself. Still, your first instinct was to say yes.

It’s the matter of less than three seconds for him to connect. Your hands are clammy. When his voice comes, it’s somehow unexpected.

“hey,” he says, and you can hear it clearly; he’s so nervous his voice is practically shaking. You can hardly believe it, because he sounded so put together over text - you really couldn’t read him at all through texting.

“Hi,” you croak out, somehow.

“i, uh… don’t really like talking like this, but, uh. i really needed to tell you somethin’.” You have no words, and so he waits in silence for about a minute before continuing. You feel like you’re messing up.

“ever since my bro moved out, i’ve been real worried. he doesn’t like talking bout his problems, you know? so… when he called me up one day, i was surprised. that was the first we’d really heard from him for three months.” His words stumble over themselves, like if he doesn’t get them out now, he never will. At the start, his voice had started out high, but as he goes further along, it drops further and further until mellowing out. He doesn’t have the same rasp as Sans, but he’s still nice to listen to.

The way his words come out almost hushed, as if he’s telling you little secrets he didn’t even know he had - it helps to calm you down.

Your heart skips a beat, though, when he gets out that last sentence. Three months? 

“at first, we didn’t really know what to say… but then… he told me he’d made a friend.” Your heart goes fluttering up to your throat, and a noise comes out that’s garbled and shocked. Papyrus chuckles a little, and you can hear a smile in his voice.

“yeah. he called me to brag about you.” 

You laugh too, feeling so fond and affectionate that it makes your words finally come. “He’s the best friend I could ask for.”

“hehe, my bro’s the coolest, right? but yeah… he’s told me so much about you that it almost feels like i already know you. that’s why i jumped at the chance for dinner tomorrow - i wanted to meet you.”

“i was afraid you’d hate me,” he tells you, like it’s nothing; like he’s talking about the weather. 

“Why?” How?

He laughs again, but this time, it sounds wrong. “i’m the reason he left the house in the first place! because of me.. he cut ties with us. he was all alone for months and i didn’t even try to find him. blue said he’d make sure nothing happened, but not even ri or ark had heard from him… it’s no wonder he got tired of me.”

You always end up wishing you had some kind of words. Any at all. You don’t know even half of the circumstances involved here, but the way Sans talks…

“He really loves you,” you tell him, because it’s the only truth you feel you can use.

Papyrus is silent for a long while, and you can hear the whistle of the wind wherever he is. You wonder if it’s cold, and if he’s wearing a coat.

“sorry for just… springing all this on you. i just wanted to say… uh, you’re this huge important person and -” But you accidentally interrupt him.

“I’m only five two, though?”

It’s dead air for only about five seconds; just enough time for it to really sink in.

The two of you end up bursting out laughing, both still a little tense or nervous. This whole thing has been… a lot.

“okay, okay, fine. you’re a tiny and essential person. who matters to my bro. so… uh.” He sounds embarrassed. “it’d be cool… if you…” He slowly but surely trails off. You wait.

He comes back eventually, and you can hear owls hooting in the background. “could you be my friend?” He must regret saying it, because he immediately hangs up after that, before you can even begin to answer. 

So you text him.

‘I’d love to.’

He doesn’t respond, but that’s fine. You’ll wait as long as he needs. All in all, even if you have a lot of mixed feelings about everything the two of you just talked about, you feel a lot better for having done it. You can only hope that Papyrus feels the same, even if only a little.

All three of you are shaping up to be real awkward messes of people, but truthfully, you wouldn’t have it any other way. As long as you keep reaching out and communicating, you have a feeling that it’ll be okay.

You’re actually much less nervous about tomorrow’s dinner now, and you text Sans the good news, which he sounds relieved about (‘OH THANK FUCK.’).

Before you go to bed, you muster up the energy to put in Papyrus’s name in your contacts:

‘Cool Dude’. 

Because he really is.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who's commented so far. You motivate me to keep writing this story! I wrote this chapter and the previous one over the course of today, so I'm still really excited over them both. I couldn't wait to post this until tomorrow, so I hope you continue to enjoy it! <3

You wake up Wednesday morning feeling pumped; you’re ready to go to work and are determined to have a good day! You shut off your annoying alarm (you’ve used the same one ever since you were eighteen - you swear you could be unconscious while it went off and you would still wake up.) and then quickly strip and get dressed into your uniform, which is actually pretty casual. Some jeans, a nice shirt, a hat… some non-slip shoes. Oh, and your nametag. 

Today you’re wearing your little cacti socks (they are adorable!!) because they make you happy. They, along with a glass of milk that you drink (refreshing!) only serve to bolster your good mood. 

As soon as you’re up, it only takes you about ten minutes to get ready, so after one more check to make sure everything’s in order, you’re out the door and in your car before long. You just have one more thing left to do…

‘Good morning! I’m excited for tonight! o((*^▽^*))o’

When he doesn’t respond after a minute, you shrug and instead flip over to Papyrus’s name. Sometimes Sans is either on his morning runs or busy taking online business classes. He’s so psyched about running his own store; you’re really proud of him!

Anyway, you feel a bit awkward around Papyrus still (oh my gosh he knows your favorite anime) but you forcibly cronch those feelings behind your teeth as you smile and just wing it. Because that always works, right?

‘Good morning! ヽ(〃･ω･)ﾉ’

Unlike his brother, he’s very quick to respond, and you wonder just what he’s up to that has him awake at seven in the morning? You hope he got enough sleep last night… you resolve to stop by the convenience store on your way home to buy him some fruit gummies - those always improve your mood! Plus, they’re so chewy and delicious… Win win win.

‘holy shit g’mornin.’ You laugh to yourself quietly, warmth running up and down your skin. He’s… such a dork?? Another message comes right on the heels of his first.

‘you heading to work? stay safe.’ Then, a third message:

‘:p’

Giddy, you stare at the words on your screen for probably way too long - you’re feeling wonderful. You have the feeling that you could get really distracted just texting Papyrus back and forth, and so you have to settle for one final text, sadly.

‘I challenge you to a mystery, Ace Detective Papyrus! You have until tonight’s dinner to determine what I’m going to be bringing as a gift! If you win, you get bragging rights and the choice of many tasty prizes! If you lose…’ You giggle helplessly. 

‘Prepare to be usurped as Police Chief Sans’s right hand man!!’ You turn your phone off and put one of your cd’s in to listen to on your drive. You hope he’s just as tickled by this as you are.

You didn’t even notice, but if any nerves or awkwardness had remained from before, they’re long gone now; you spend the next thirty minutes or so relaxing as you jam out to one of your favorite rap artists. (She’s so talented… you never get tired of listening to her lyrics.)

The scenery goes on and on and on until it ends where you’re going. Greens, blue, whites and black, some browns and yellows… you like cataloguing the colors. It’s almost like a game, except it’s one with no rules and no objectives - you just drive.

You just drive, and then you’re there.

* * *

You’re on a roll that morning at work, getting everything done with time to spare and more. Your coworkers even commend you, asking why you’re in such a good mood - you’ve never really been one to open up in a professional setting, so you chuckle and tell them you’re meeting a friend after work today. They laugh and tease you over finally having someone to talk to outside of the restaurant, and you laugh too, conceding the point. 

The rest of the day passes in a blur of customers coming in and out, and by the time you’re done, register counted down and lobby clean once more, you can hardly pay any mind to your aching feet. Instead, you clock out and call ‘have a good day!’ to the rest of the team, fast walking back to your car and inserting a Hozier cd only to turn that volume up. 

You almost forget to make a turn into the shopping district instead of your usual route, but you manage to remember at the last second and pull up to a small store that sells both organic produce and other miscellaneous snacks. You buy two gallons of their milk every week; it has a distinct taste different from the milk sold in most grocery stores. They even let you bring back the glass gallons - you get a discount on your next purchase if you do!

Today, though, you head straight for the tiny section the store boasts for various healthy snacks and homemade jams. You eye a bottle of their strawberry fig and soon cave, because that stuff is freaking amazing. It’s your favorite! (Though you can be tempted by raspberry jams…)

They don’t have many gummies to choose from, but the ones they do are Quality. There are a couple of variety bags, along with three other kinds - ones shaped like little pine cones, ones that have a filling inside, and the last that are simply labeled ‘vitamin gummy’. Naturally, you buy a bag of all of them, because when one buys gummies, one lays it all out on the line. It would be a dark day indeed if you ever made yourself turn away from the goodness that is those funky little fruit chews.

Besides, this way, you’ll cover a flavor that Papyrus likes no problem, right? You pat yourself on the back for your life decision skills and swagger over to checkout, complimenting the cashier on his lovely nails (red and pink! pretty!) which causes him to light up. You love seeing people smile like that - it makes you smile, too.

“Thank you for your purchase!” His bangs hang over his eyes a bit, reminding you a little of a puppy peeking up at you. “Have a good day, um…” he stumbles over what to address you as, which always amuses you. You’re wearing a sports bra today, along with your shirt being a size large, which probably doesn’t help anyone who wants to mistake you for a woman. 

Your mother has also been complimented on her ‘little boy’ before when you were younger, even when you were wearing a regular bra, so. You suppose you’re a bit androgynous?

You smile at the cashier. “I will! You have one too!” As he relaxes, you wave a hand in goodbye and head out the door to your vehicle.

Snacks acquired! (You can hear the video game sound effects in your head.)

* * *

You still have two hours left until the dinner, so you decide to take a shower and then you’re standing in front of the bathroom mirror, electric razor in hand as you try to shave your chin; you naturally grow stubble, which you actually rather like, especially the feeling of the bristles as you run your fingers through them, but you’ll never be looking to grow it out or anything. You prefer being barefaced and clean shaven. 

It grows pretty fast too, so you have to shave it every week. Just like your hair, if you don’t want it to get completely out of control, you have to remember to manage it; you were blessed with extremely thick and curly hair, which you adore, but it grows so fast! Sometimes you’re tempted to just shave it all off (you used to have an undercut but you’ve let it grow longer lately) but your mother always pouts until you give in and say you won’t. She says she’d be heartbroken if you ever actually went through with it. 

Naturally, your other body hair is fast growing as well, and your sister has always teased you by saying that your legs are ‘mountain man legs’. You like the look of your legs now, as well as when you can bother to shave them bare - just like all of your stretch marks and tiny nicks and scars, you find it all pretty. 

You used to be super self conscious about not shaving under your arms or your legs whenever you went out, even if you wore something covering them, until you got tired of it and just decided that as long as you liked the look of it, you were keeping things as they were.

As long as you’re comfortable, safe, and happy, who cares what you look like?

After you’re done shaving, you put on some pajamas and then head out into your living room. With a happy hum, you turn up the volume on your phone and pick a playlist you created just for this very situation: it’s time to dance that leftover time away!

You will freely admit that you are an absolutely horrible dancer; you don’t even follow any of the common rules (you’ve never even been to a bar or club). You just move and move and have fun with it, sometimes trying to imitate some kpop moves but failing miserably. It feels good, though. You have this one move where you take a step back, bend your back slightly, and wiggle both of your hands ever so slightly. Another classic is one where you step side to side while taking a fist to pound on your chest two times.

You love dancing like this, alone and absorbed into the music. You’ve always felt the most free when you’re by yourself, listening to a song. When you get to express that in motion… there’s a bit of magic in it, you believe. Wouldn’t that be amazing, if that were true?

You twirl and twirl around the floor, nearly tripping over your rug a dozen times and laughing about it every time - why else would you own a rug? It’s big and fluffy and lets you sink your toes into it, causing you to wiggle in delight. Mmm, delicious.

You stop before you end up working yourself into sweat, only to find that there’s only twenty minutes left. You quickly put all of the gummy bags into multiple boxes (one you put _two bags_ inside) and then hastily and shoddily wrap all of them. You only have one Christmas bow left so you reach for the cran-grape juice that’s still in the bag and just stick it on the container. 

Nice!

With that, you better bet that you’re ready for the time of your entire life. 

When you knock on Sans’s door, your hands are full of four boxes and one solitary bag full of an accessorized bottle of Ocean Spray cran-grape juice, which strikes you as a little lonely; maybe you should have bought more??

Whatever the case, when Sans opens the door, he stops and stares. “YOU SAID YOU WOULD ONLY BE BRINGING J-” You frantically shush him, your snacks shuffling slightly as you try your best to gesture at him with a Walmart bag. “Nobody is supposed to know! It is a surprise!”

“oh, y’all talking about the juice?” Nonchalantly sauntering over to you, he must be Papyrus! Sans takes every single one of your Edible Gifts and puts them on the living room table. You’d recognize that voice anywhere. Still, the point remains!

You point at him, dramatically. Because you have a _point_ to make. Ha ha? (You despair over your sense of humor, which has only seemed to worsen over the years.) “That is not juice! That is a secret!” 

Wow, now that you think about it, Papyrus is kind of tall? Well, compared to you and Sans, the both of you only coming up to under his shoulders (you have already categorized him as prime Cuddle Material). He raises a bonebrow at you, a faint rattling coming from him somehow? Are.. those his bones doing that?

“oh wow, geez. what about the boxes?” 

You grin up at him, smug. His eye lights watch you; they’re very, very bright. But a lot less sharp than Sans’s? “Those are for your deductions! Have you guessed yet?”

He laughs, warm and low, and then moves closer. For a moment, you think he’s headed towards the table, but you’re wrong, because he places a gentle hand on your head, just for a moment. “even ‘m not that good, sunshine.” 

Your grin relaxes into something softer, and you smile as he sits down on the couch, leaning over to inspect the boxes thoroughly. He pats the seat next to him silently, and you quickly take the opportunity to observe an ace detective at work. He’s warm and soft against you, especially with that fluffy jacket he’s wearing as padding, and before you know it, you’ve cuddled up next to him completely, your thigh touching his pants and your arm alongside his. When he tilts his head towards you, you’re taken aback by how close the two of you are.

With an almost silent squeak, you lean back. “Sorry!” But he only drags you back against him, slow and steady to allow you time to pull back. You don’t.

He looks back at the boxes, smiling. “as long as you’re okay with it? between you and me… i’m also an ace cuddler.’ 

You can’t help but giggle, giddily turning your face into his shoulder. “This almost feels like a sleepover.” 

You can feel the movements of his arm as he lifts up the boxes and compares their weights, humming in contemplation. He seems really focused, and it takes him a minute or two before he finds your words again. Once he does, though, he actually gasps. 

“oh!” 

You peek back up at him, curious, only to find him with a hand over his face, trying to hide a big grin (he has little fangs! cute!!). After a little while, he peers over at you between phalanges and chuckles, lit up in excitement. 

“do you think we could?” 

Before you can tell him yes, absolutely, Sans comes back in, an apron that has little cookies all over it over his clothes. He stalks to the table and cocks his skull, looking vaguely amused.

“I SHOULD HAVE KNOWN THE TWO OF YOU WOULD START CONSPIRING TOGETHER. NOW: WHAT IS ALL OF THIS, HUMAN?” He gestures towards your boxes with a forked ladle he’s holding - could there be noodles in your future?

You shimmy your way out of Papyrus’s bubble of comfortable warmth and instead lean over to press a hand against the table. In your head, you are a mob boss laying down the law to your fellow capos. Your voice is grave as you depict the current state of affairs: “Boss, me and your boy here’s got a bit of a disagreement to settle. See, there’s no way us two are gonna be content working together like this.” You playfully turn around to glare at Papyrus, even adding in a threatening roar for good measure; better that this man knows your measure.

Sans appears to be at a loss. “WHAT - ARE YOU… ARE THE TWO OF YOU _ROLEPLAYING_???” And with that, Papyrus absolutely loses his gosh dang marbles, laughing hard as he slumps over the table only for his skull to clunk against one of the boxes. 

“stars, sunshine,” is all he can manage to get out between breaths (do skeletons need oxygen??), Sans standing over the both of you disapprovingly as you shrug at him, causing him to sigh.

“DINNER IS READY. ONCE THE TWO OF YOU ARE DONE BOONDOGGLING, FEEL FREE TO ENTER THE KITCHEN.” He turns to leave, but you saw an opportunity and you’re taking it.

“Don’t you mean… _bonedoggling_?” You are grinning as he slowly turns his head to you, and then back around, shoulders shaking. A stray snort escapes him, but his voice is Very Serious when he next speaks.

“TRY NOT TO… BUST A GUT LAUGHING.” And with that, you’re left with a still giggling Papyrus, and admittedly, your gut is smarting a bit from all this mirth.

“we should probably get going. anymore hilarious jokes and i’ll end up with a femur,” You have to lean on him to catch your breath, and his hands are gentle as they help you up; unlike Sans, who always wears gloves, his bones are bare. You can feel all the little nicks and scratches along them as they ghost over your skin.

Once you’re both on your feet, you look at him and shoot him double fingers guns with what you hope looks like a wink. It probably just looks like you blinked, but he smiles at you, so you figure it all worked out.

“You’re _patelling_ me!” 

The two of you giggle over that silly pun as if you’re children the entire way to the kitchen. Just before you enter, he leans down and whispers something into your ear.

“think i got it figured out now. ace detective papyrus’s great deduction.”

You stop and whisper back. “Oh yeah?”

He leans against the doorway in a move that’s probably supposed to be cool but since it’s a doorway, it only makes him look like even more of a big goofball. You’re digging it.

“is it fruit gummies?”

As he watches your eyes widen in shock, you utter, “How?” He straightens up as you hang your head. “How could you have bested me, the Police Chief’s (who is also a mob boss) right hand man?” 

He ruffles your hair teasingly before pulling away and heading into the kitchen. Over his shoulder, he playfully tosses you a word:

“magic.” 

As you settle into your seat at the kitchen table (right in between both brothers, which suits you perfectly well!), you think to yourself that it is official: Papyrus really is a great detective. Heck, if he got that from just a few minutes with your boxes, he might even be more powerful than the city’s department of police.

“Teach me, senpai,” you demand of him, which causes him to spit out the Sea Tea he was enjoying (Sans insisted that it would compliment the meal, even if it was ‘A BIT BLAND’) and for Sans to start cackling into a gloved fist.

As he looks over between the two of you, he smirks. “INTRODUCING THE TWO OF YOU WAS EITHER ONE OF MY BEST IDEAS… OR ONE OF MY WORST. EITHER WAY, YOU MAKE FOR A PAIR WHOSE SHEER COMBINED CHAOTIC ENERGY IS ACTUALLY RATHER IMPRESSIVE.”

You look over at the huge bowl and plates he had put onto the middle of the table earlier and realize that you are super hungry. It smells amazing; some kind of light pasta dish full of vegetables, along with a side of some fluffy garlic bread. You light up and beam at him; you _have_ to compliment him over all of this right this second! 

“Everything looks so good, Sans! Thank you for taking the time to cook for us! I can’t wait to eat it all!” You’re so excited that you don’t even notice the purple tint taking over your friend’s face, but Papyrus does; he chuckles and quickly makes up a plate for you, which causes you to nearly wiggle in your seat you’re so happy.

You wait for the two of them to get their share too before starting to dig in, and as you take bite after bite before slowing down to have a taste of that Sea Tea (it’s pretty good!), over your head, the two of them both can’t help from stealing a glance at your soul again.

It’s been glowing ever since you walked through the door; it’s been telling them how happy you are just to hang out with them. (You wouldn’t know it, but there’s a reason Papyrus was so quick to call you sunshine.)

The meal goes on, and it reminds you of going out to order food with your family. That shared sense of warmth and connection - good people, good food, some bad laughs; it doesn’t take much to make you want to live in a moment like that for a while. You and Sans lightheartedly bicker over whether or not Sea Tea should be so salty (though, the both of you are in agreement already? You’re kind of just arguing to make fun of each other for the sake of it). Papyrus looks like he has a good time just watching the two of you dominate the talking, but he’s never afraid to jump in with a quick joke or remark about something that catches his interest. 

A couple of times, he ends up flicking a noodle into your hair and turning around before you can catch him in the act; it almost ends in a spectacular food fight, but Sans confiscates both of your forks and tells the both of you to use knives to eat instead. You and Papyrus end up trying to stab single curls of noodles onto your utensils, while Sans watches and exudes smugness as he twists his fork.

“SO.” Sans leans back in his chair and clears his throat, almost awkwardly. Papyrus tenses beside you, and you look between the two of them only to find that they’re both facing away from each other. “HOW ARE THE OTHERS?”

It isn’t as if things are bad between them, but.. It looks like there’s a lot of things being unsaid right now. You can’t help but worry over whatever caused this rift in the first place, though.

“you know…” Papyrus waves a hand through the air, as if he can’t find the right words. “ark, lace and stel seemed pretty down after the first month. kept wondering where you were.” Sans seems to shrink into himself at that, a guilty look on his face as he quietly listens.

Papyrus sighs, elbows leaning onto the table. “blue told everyone he was keepin’ tabs on you, but… he didn’t really know exactly what you were up to.”

You sit there and just listen, because what can you say? You wish you could make them start smiling again.

A gentle clatter as a fork is set down. “AND THE REST?” It hurts to hear him sound like this, as if he’s bracing for a blow.

“edge and red, it didn’t really make a difference to them. p-” he cuts himself off as he looks over to you, and then starts again. “blue’s brother, he, uh, tried to cheer me up. stretch…” Papyrus trips over his words again as he catches his brother’s eye and softly, sadly smiles. “he was there whenever i got lost in my own head over you. made sure to keep me out of any trouble.”

And with that, Sans looks like he just got gut punched; as if that was one of the worst things that could have come out of his brother’s mouth. Your gut twists up and you reach under the table until you hit the smooth material of his gloves - you take his fingers in yours, gripping tight. It’s all that you can do, really, but he glances over at you and then clears his throat, squeezing back.

He looks back at Papyrus and straightens, stern as he says, “I’M NOT GOING BACK. I CAN’T.” His brother looks as if he expected that answer; and yet, he still looks disappointed. It causes Sans to look down at the table while a silence drags on. 

“HOW COULD I RUIN THE ONE GOOD THING YOU’VE EVER HAD?”

Papyrus physically jolts, shock and disbelief painting themselves over his face, twisting over the insides of his eyes. “...what?”

Sans scoffs. “THEY ALL LOOKED AT YOU LIKE YOU WERE THEIR LITTLE BROTHER; THEY LOOKED AT ME LIKE I WAS JUST SOMETHING EXTRA.” 

Papyrus desperately scrambles over himself, words tumbling out and out and it is as if you’re watching how wildfires start. “not ark or lace. not stel! they’d never do that to you.” He sounds as if he still can’t believe what his brother just said. 

Sans laughs bitterly, and Papyrus flinches; you just hold on to your best friend and hope he doesn’t want you to let go anytime soon. 

“THEY WERE THE ONLY ONES WHO WANTED ME.” 

You watch them stare at each other, one resigned while the other is stunned silent. Eventually, he goes on, and it only seems to get worse. Sans opens his mouth, and it is the picture before the natural disaster.

“EDGE ONCE ASKED ME… IF THE REASON WHY I HAD SO MUCH LV…” 

Sans looks at his brother and smiles a terrible smile. “WAS BECAUSE I ENJOYED IT?” 

Papyrus’s eye lights are snuffed completely out. You feel Sans’s phalanges slip completely from yours as he just sits there beside you.

Only to laugh and laugh and laugh.


	6. Chapter 6

You end up asking if you could spend the night after the disaster that dinner concluded on. At first, Sans looked as if he was all geared up to refuse, but then he glanced towards Papyrus, and all his bravado deflated; his brother seemed relieved when he said yes.

After a quick walk over to your apartment for a quick change into some pajamas, you grab a toothbrush and your Switch (as well as your plush friend Hello Kitty) just in case anyone wanted to play, you soon find yourself building a nest on the floor with Papyrus. He's smiling, but you can tell his heart's not in it.

You don't even have anything to say. What _could_ you? This whole thing between the two of them… seems like it's been festering for a lot longer than you first thought. It's definitely not something that can be 'solved' by a few pretty words or anything, really. Stuff like what Sans had forced out… it's too easy for the heart to start _believing_ in it. 

Truthfully, you don't think there's much you can do to help. You just want… to be here with them.

"Have you met Hello Kitty yet?" you ask Papyrus, who tilts his head as he glances over at you. 

You scoot closer and hold your little buddy out to him in a generous offer; your fingers wriggle enticingly against her soft fur and makes Papyrus finally break out into a weak smile. It's a start.

He takes her from you, and the moment his phalanges accidentally squeeze her, his eyes go wide, and you can tell that she's snared another one. 

"they're… so soft?" He questions, his voice so quiet as if he's afraid that his brother will hear him from the kitchen. You smile as, almost in wonder, he traces path up and down her fur.

"and round?" 

"She's the best," you declare, and Papyrus doesn't disagree. After a little while spent where he just revels in holding her, he chuckles and offers her back.

You shake your head, though. "Hold onto her for as long as you want. Besides, she's taken a liking to you." 

He looks down at her and cute black eyes stare back. Slowly, his smile fades away until he just looks tired. You sit there next to him and wish you were better at this.

"i just want him to be happy." You get the feeling that he's not even really talking to you. That he just needs a way for the words to come out somehow.

Papyrus bends into himself and you've never seen someone so tall look so small before. You don't even have to think about it; you move and before he knows it, you're wrapped around him in a hug. He tenses up. Slowly relaxes. But he only remembers that it's safe to move when you whisper to him:

"I have a secret to tell you." He looks at you and you're nervous. What if you say all the wrong things? You tell him anyway; this is too important.

"Do you know _that_ smile of his? I know you do," your eyes feel soft as you keep them on his. "I've only ever seen it when he's with you." Papyrus frowns and avoids looking at you.

"i know," he replies, and it isn't exactly what you were hoping for. He takes a moment, but then he's scooping you up into his arms along with Hello Kitty as he moves to the couch. You have no problem with this whatsoever. 

You lounge on his lap as he holds you, and he spends a while just laying his head on top of yours, breathing in the scent of your cherry blossom shampoo. 

"'m sorry. for dragging you into all of this," he whispers into your hair. Your nose brushes against his collarbone as you shake your head ever so slightly. (He smells like all the warmth in the world.) It's kind of funny; you're both hiding from each other while you couldn't be closer. 

Maybe he's embarrassed, and maybe you're a little sad that he needs to be. 

"We're friends. There's no need to thank me." And he only holds you tighter in response, making your laughter a little breathy when it comes tumbling out as if it had been waiting.

Eventually, he falls into a light doze. It's a trial and a half escaping from his skilled phalanges, but you somehow manage. As you're finagling his body to lay flat along the cushions, one of his eyes half opens. He doesn't even need to say anything.

You smile at him. "I'm gonna go talk to Sans now, okay? Here!" You place Hello Kitty on his face, which merely causes him to close that eye. He doesn't even move her off. 

"thanks," falls from his mouth, and you can tell he means it. 

You shoot him a thumbs up even if he can't see it, relieved that he's taking it easy at the moment. "She loves you!" 

He laughs, shoulders moving slightly. Somehow, she stays in place! "you're a terror, sunshine."

You giggle as you leave him to his doom; you're really glad you could cheer him up, even a little. But as you step into the kitchen and see Sans standing before the sink, just staring down silently… your smile drains away. Slowly, you walk towards him. He doesn't turn to face you.

"Sans?" Still, he doesn't move. The air hangs heavy over your head. You come to stand beside him, and watch as he sighs to himself. 

A few more moments pass, and you determine that he won't be moving for quite a while. Well, on his own, anyway. So you hold out your hand and ask if he'd like to take tea with you. When he remains silent, you slowly lead him to the table where he sits down and almost seems to curl into himself…

You put on the water to boil and try not to think of anything.

When it's done, you place the cups and the kettle on the table and then you sit too, right across from him. After you pour his cup, he raises it and takes a single sip, soon putting it down. 

When he does finally decide to face you, you're struck by how utterly exhausted he looks. There are shadows on his face, in his eyes… and his expression is merely a neutral line. But the way he hunches in, ever so slightly…

It looks like he's tired of feeling anything at all.

This isn't like Papyrus; even if you did manage to joke around, you doubt it would make him smile. Not now. But you don't know _what_ to do. But you refuse to sit here and accept that there's nothing you can do; eventually, you just lay an open hand out on the table. He stares at it blankly.

"I'm here," you promise. 

After a few minutes where he watches you with paranoia and doubt and a faint disbelief, he hesitantly reaches back until he's gripping your fingers hard. Not enough to hurt, but enough for you to wonder if he realizes. 

"I'm not going anywhere." And he must know that you're telling the truth, because his eyes snap shut and he grits his teeth. 

He stays like that for a long time. Eventually, he faces you again.

You look at him and can't see anything other than your best friend. "Can… can I hug you?" It's important to you to ask. He wordlessly opens his arms to you, and you don't think you've ever flown out of a chair this quick before. 

You admonish yourself for startling him; his eyes track your body intently. But soon enough, when he has you in his arms… he leans into you, gloved phalanges gripping and gripping. 

While you've known him, Sans has never much been one for hugs or hand holding. He always asks before touching you, no matter if it's something you've previously said yes to. You can't explain it, but that silent consideration makes you feel safe, every single time. 

You hug him and hope he feels just as safe. He gasps out some mangled word that might have been your name and buries his skull into your neck. 

It's always been hard, knowing what to do in these situations: what do you say, what do you do? You're continually in awe of those types of people who just do - and in this moment, you wonder if it's because they've had more practice than you? And then you don't feel quite as inadequate. 

It’s only when he’s able to hide that he can bring himself to speak. His hands shake for just a single second before he strings his wrists together in a band, braced against your back. “WHAT MUST YOU THINK OF ME?” 

You smile, your voice coming out fond. “Hey.” And he stops. Waits for it. 

“I love you,” you say, and he jerks in your arms, still not able to look at you even now. “W-WHAT?” He actually stammers a bit, and you’re warm all over. 

You laugh breathlessly. “I love you so much, Sans! You’re my best friend,” and you hope he knows how special that is to you. How happy you are just being around him, how comfortable he and his brother make you feel, how you feel like you’re fit to burst from how light and melty your body is. 

Your voice is a little quieter for what you say next, but no less unwavering. “You’re one of the reasons I look forward to getting out of bed.” And it’s this that causes him to gently pull away from you so he can finally face you, his eyelights small and shocked - like he just can’t believe that anyone could value him so much. Well. You do; you really, really do.

You stare back at him, unable to stop smiling for anything. Not with how _good_ it feels to say all of this to him. “I don’t know how much I can help, and you don’t need to tell me anything. But.. I want you to know that I’ll try my best for you, for as long as you’ll have me.” He looks at you for a moment, and then closes his eyes only to open them with a chuckle, laying his head in his palm. He regards you with sharp eyes, and finally, it feels as if something has relaxed.

“YOU AREN’T CURIOUS?” He asks, and you shake your head. 

“I mean, sure, but if you don’t want to tell me then I don’t want to know. It’s you and Papyrus’s business, you know? If you need me to hear it, then I will.” You’ve always been this way. Instead of being interested in the past or the future, like some people, you’re caught up in the present. You like living from moment to moment best.

Sans breathes out a breath, his eyes not able to look away from you for some reason. “WHO WAS FOOLISH ENOUGH TO LET YOU GO?”

And it’s your turn to be surprised now, as he stares you down intently, not budging. You tap your nails on the table once, twice, three more times. You need to cut them soon.

You wave a hand dismissively, a little embarrassed. “Oh! No one, really… I’m just an awkward person. It’s hard for me to talk to strangers sometimes, and there are times where I hardly talk at all… You’re kind of my first friend in years, Sans.” You’re not ashamed of any of this, of course not. It’s just that… there’s still a part of you from your childhood that wonders if there’s something in you that maybe doesn’t fit right?

Sans narrows his eyes at you and looks about five seconds away from demanding the names of every single person who ever made you feel insecure. There’s truly no need for it, but it does make you feel strangely giddy to see it. 

“IT IS AS I THOUGHT: HUMANITY FUCKING SUCKS. MY EXPECTATIONS WERE LOW… AND YET THEY HAVE… WHAT IS THE OPPOSITE OF EXCEED? BECAUSE THEY HAVE DONE IT!” The way he says it, totally convinced, makes you cover your face as you start giggling, helpless. 

“I’m a human??” You say, because you have to. He raises an eyebrow at you, ever so slightly, a fang peeking out from his smirk. 

“YES, BUT YOU ARE MY HUMAN.” He declares it like that’s all he needs to say for his point to be made, and you can’t take this. You’re losing your gosh darn marbles, once again.

Eventually, once your laughter abates, his smirk softens into something you can’t quite place as he leans back in his chair. 

“I WANT YOU HERE,” He tells you, and it’s something you didn’t know you needed to hear. Maybe you’ve needed to hear it for a while now. Wanted to be wanted. It means something you can’t name.

“YOU ARE LOVED,” And when you start crying out of nowhere, he gets up and ‘searches’ for sugar, even though neither of you take it in your tea. He’s ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous.

But you love him for it.

When your eyes finally stop leaking, he immediately sits back down at the table and puts an entire glass filled with sugar in the middle, which makes you laugh. You can only picture Papyrus wandering in here sometime later only to find a single glass of sugar sitting alone at a kitchen table; you wonder what he’d deduce from that, and that thought only makes it funnier.

“Sans,” you smile, humor still ringing in your voice like chiming bells, “Do you think.. you and Papyrus could maybe talk. About everything? Even a little? Communication is key!” 

He looks down for a few seconds but then raises his skull again, his eyes weary but focused. He sighs. “VERY WELL. BUT!” He points a gloved finger at you, and it almost makes you want to check if you’re not in some wild western parody or something. You grin as you point back at him, excited in general. Because who doesn’t get fired up about the tiny little games people like to play like this?

He snorts, but continues, which makes you pout: you love his reactions and his banter with you. It’s so fun! “I REQUIRE YOUR PRESENCE!” Oh dang. If he’s sure about it, then count you in! 

“Wow! When?” 

“YES!” Sans exclaims, which only leaves you with questions. Okay then!

You glance down at your nails as you smile. “Just let me know when you need me, okay? But anyway… how would you and Papyrus feel…” you trail off and glee fills your heart as he subtly leans closer to you in anticipation.

“About helping me paint my nails!?” You’re very excited and he hasn’t even given you an answer yet, but you think you already know by the way he almost lights up at your words, eye lights big stars as they look at you.

“I’ll go get my nail polish then, ha ha! You go wake Papyrus up, okay? I’ll be right back!” You grin at him as you rush out, soul drumming out a steady tune as it nearly sang.

When Sans entered the living room, he found his brother’s eye lights peeking out from under that fearsome animal mascot that you so admired; it appears as if she’d seduced yet another subordinate.

He sat next to Papyrus and found that it was almost easy to look at his brother for once. 

“i hope he brings pink.” It floats into the air like a tentative cease fire, and Sans somehow finds himself smirking at his brother.

“YOUR SENSE FOR AESTHETICS HAS BEEN CORRUPTED BY THE SHOJOU.” 

Papyrus snickers. “why do you always say it like that? stop.”

He does not stop. “YOU’RE LAUGHING.”

“so are you? i hate this,” so he says, but his eye lights are dusted a faint lavender, and it’s all Sans can do to not slump in relief. Things almost feel like they’re back to normal.

“hey, bro.” But of course they’re not.

Sans looks at Papyrus. Then, they both open their mouths at the same time, their voices overlapping:

“I’m sorry!”

And they both relax a little at that, Papyrus sitting up and drawing his legs up to his chest in a position Sans recognizes from when he was still a babybones; sometimes it feels as if he still is. 

“i should have tried harder. i don’t know why i didn’t; i just thought… that you needed space. that you were a little tired of me.” 

Sans chuckles, because they’ve both been fools. “YOU’RE AN IDIOT, PAPYRUS. YOU’RE MY BROTHER! WE’RE FAMILY!” 

Papyrus’s cheek bones color as he nervously laughs. “heh heh heh… yeah. ‘m sorry, bro. i’ve missed you.”

Sans leans his head against the couch cushion, closing his eyes and just feeling so relieved. “I’M SORRY TOO. I SHOULD HAVE TOLD YOU… THAT I WAS AFRAID OF IT ALL.” 

Papyrus sits up straighter, shooting him a look. He sighs, and keeps talking. “WE WERE SUDDENLY ON THE SURFACE, WITH MONSTERS WHO WERE ALMOST OUR MIRROR IMAGE. THEN, THERE YOU WERE, HAPPY TO BE OUT. WHILE I WAS…” It’s frustrating, searching and trying to grasp the right words. They always seem to slip away.

Sans clenches his fists and tries. “I WAS SCARED OF GOING OUTSIDE. OF HOW HAPPY YOU WERE. AND… I WAS TERRIFIED OF NOT WANTING TO BE THE SAME ANYMORE.”

He’d been scared of wanting anything.

“sans,” Papyrus breathes, and he can barely stand to see the look in his brother’s eyes. Not pity, thank fuck, or else Sans would have kicked his brother out of his house. But it was still hard to take.

“I DON’T REGRET LEAVING,” He says. “BUT I REGRET LEAVING YOU BEHIND.”

Papyrus reaches for Hello Kitty and hands her to him; he takes her and squeezes. She’s so soft? And round??

“DO YOU THINK YOU COULD FORGIVE ME?” He asks, and Papyrus says, “‘course!” like he could never imagine anything else as a response. Not for the first time, he wonders what he did to deserve a brother like him; not for the last time, he’s grateful for Papyrus all the same.

They sit there together in a fairly comfortable silence until you end up almost tripping over the door frame as you hurry inside. Your soul is bright and warm and practically radiating positive emotion all over the place; he catches Papyrus melting at the smile you shoot the both of them and smirks. 

“Hey! I brought all the colors!! Because I’m ready for this to be the best sleepover ever! Are you guys?” You’re bouncing in place, excited energy a mirror of his brother’s as Papyrus quickly goes over to take the bag from you, rooting through it and oohing and ahhing over every single color; his eyes are bright and happy, and so are yours.

He finds himself thankful for you, too. There’s still a metric fuckton of problems to work through, but as long as he has your support? He feels as if he could actually go to a therapist he’s so determined. 

And… actually communicating wasn’t actually as horrible as he’d feared. He didn’t know why he’d dreaded it so much, truth be told, because Papyrus had been as understanding as ever? Perhaps he’s just been overthinking things with all the time he’s had to himself.

“Sans! I want you to pick a color too!” You look over at him and grin, eyes promising some sort of mischief. He smirks and throws your plush friend at you; she smacks against your face and lands onto the floor with a sad thump.

You stare at him, full of betrayal. He can feel the laugh bubbling up his throat.

“HOLD YOUR HELLO KITTENS, HUMAN.” 

“Sans, why??” You ask him, the both of you ignoring Papyrus who has picked up Hello Kitty and is now wearing her on his head. He prays for his brother to not begin stacking anything else on his head. Not again.

“BECAUSE I CAN,” He answers, smug as he settles in between the two of them, feeling content. 

Papyrus shoots him a thumbs up and a, “nice one, bro,” causing you to whirl around to him and exclaim something about diabolical fiends. Sans laughs and lets himself have this.

It’s something. It’s a start. It’s what he wants to hold on to. 

He’s still afraid. But he’s decided that despite everything, he's happy.


End file.
